The Founding of Pigwarts III – Chaos Is Served
Chapter 35: Love Letters and Pixies
This day had been good to Daphne even prior to her learning that quite unbeknownst to herself she had stolen some Polyjuice Potion from Milla and not only got away with it, but also used it to sneak into Draco's class disguised as a student and after the lesson scared him nearly witless by pretending to seduce him. It was unusual for Daphne to be having this much sneaky fun so unintentionally, but she was very glad she had been told this, or else she would have been sadly ignorant of her own brilliant achievements.
Her first lesson that day was passed by drinking tea and drawing pretty pictures into the used tea-leaves, also by discussing everybody's favourite flavour of tea, the latest issue of Witch Weekly, and yesterday's Quidditch match. After that she had an appointment with her flame-haired friend.
"Remember the plan," Ginny told her, "we need to act like Susan, and to do that we have to know more about Susan. She has a lesson now, which means we can go to her room and see what we can find."
This was exactly what they did, knowing the location of Susan's room since there had been a struggle over it between her and Ginny back in those days when they were choosing their rooms. Susan's quarters were on the fourth floor, facing the front lawn of the castle and overlooking the Giant Jellyfish Pond. Ginny felt it practically her right to enter them, since in all fairness they should have been hers. However, right or no right, even Susan's door was locked and warded, and she had used a similar charm as to the one that had once guarded the entrance to Ravenclaw common room.
"If a dragon sits to rest upon a mountain," the door spoke to them, as they were trying to get it open, "and greets the rising Sun with a beam of its burning fire, what is the name of the mountain it has landed on?"
Daphne and Ginny exchanged one long puzzled gaze.
"Well," Daphne was the first to try to tackle the problem, "if it breathes fire towards the rising Sun, it must be facing east. And his tail will be pointing towards west."
"And now we have to find a mountain that's east-west oriented?" Ginny raised her brow sarcastically.
"Yes, there are a lot of such," Daphne conceded, "Alright, think about it like this: if you were a dragon sitting to rest upon a mountain, and greeting the rising Sun with spitting fire, which mountain would you be sitting on?"
"That's ridiculous."
"No, it's not," Daphne argued, "if you want to act like Susan, you have to think like Susan, and to think like Susan, you have to think like a dragon, and if you think like a dragon, we can get into Susan's room."
"Who cares the name of the mountain it sits upon!" Ginny exclaimed. "I certainly wouldn't if I were the dragon."
"You wouldn't? You would just land on the first mountain that comes along, never minding what it is?"
"It's a mountain, that's good enough for me," Ginny snapped, but after a short pause added, "all right, so maybe not the very first mountain that comes along. I mean, if there is more than one mountain, I'd certainly pick the most suitable one. Not too sharp, not too windy; actually, dragons usually prefer to sleep in caves."
"So we need to find a mountain that has a cave that faces east," Daphne summed up their progress so far, "that narrows it down."
"Oh yes, considerably. This is probably a trick question. It has to be," Ginny reasoned.
"Oh, I'm sure we can talk it over and out. Let's see... dragon sits upon a mountain, only it wouldn't sit upon a mountain but in the mountain, if it stays in a cave. It sits to rest – do dragons sit to rest? Maybe they lie to rest, or stand up to rest."
"They sit, too," Ginny remarked absently, occupied with her own ideas, "Perhaps it's in code. Perhaps the answer can be somehow formed by rearranging the letters or something."
"So it sits to rest. It greets the rising Sun with a beam of its burning fire. Now, are dragons nocturnal? Because otherwise shouldn't it greet the setting Sun with a beam of its fire, although I'm not sure why it would greet the Sun at all, or is it some custom of theirs? Do they think the Sun's another dragon, because it also has hot beams?"
"Let's see, if I take all the nouns in the question... dragon, mountain, Sun, beam, fire, name, mountain again... nothing from the first letters, way too many 'en'-s if we use the last ones."
"Of course, it sort of makes sense," Daphne went on, "dragons can fly at night, I suppose, as they can light their own way. And if I were a dragon and had been flying all night, then certainly I would greet the rising Sun because it means I could finally sit down and rest."
"Mennenn? Nemnenn? Mnennne?"
"Of course, I don't think I approve of flying at night, even if I could light my way, especially in mountainous regions. Unless of course I was trying to remain unseen, but even then my bursts of light might give it away."
"No? No."
"... I would find myself a nice mountain, with a nice cave in it, and then I would go to the cave and have my well-deserved slumber. Yes."
"Perhaps I should think geographically," Ginny wondered, "Let's see, where do dragons live. Welsh Green should live in Wales. Hungarian Horntail, Norwegian something... now, if I were flying from Wales to Hungary, or to Norway, I would be flying over... alright, I'm flying to Norway to visit Norbert. Wait, Norbert is with Charlie in Romania. Let's see... what has Charlie told me about them..."
"I would be sleeping soundly, snoring too, inside some snug cave in the mountain, having my dragon-dreams about fair maidens and piles of gold and kingdoms to conquer..."
"Perhaps any mountain will do... Ben Nevis? Mont Blanc? Everest?"
"... and then I would sleep all day and wake up at night and continue flying. Unless I'm already at home. I wonder, where am I going at all?"
"I sometimes wonder that, too," Ginny remarked, having listened to Daphne in case she was closer to figuring this thing out, "Oh, for Merlin's snake. Open up, you damn door."
"That's not a nice way to speak to a door," Daphne admonished, and gave the door a gentle pat, "aren't you a nice door, aren't you? Who's a nice door, aren't you a nice door, yes, you are, yes, you are!"
"This is ridiculous," Ginny repeated her earlier thought, "there's no door that can keep us, is there? One way or the other, we are going to get past this door!"
"What's the other way?"
"The window!" Ginny announced, gave the door one last threatening look that said 'I shall return with a complete list of all the mountains of the world' and stamped off down the hallway.
---
"She locks her door with something like that and then leaves her window open," Ginny shook her head in half-disbelief as they had entered Susan's room through the most lightly warded window. "And then you wonder what's wrong with people these days."
"I don't wonder that," Daphne disagreed, closing the window and placing her broom against the wall beneath it, then looking around the room with curiosity, "Tidy, but not overly so. Looks cosy."
"I see no ducks or polka dots," Ginny commented, "that's one-zero in my favour on the normality score."
"I don't see what's so abnormal about ducks," Daphne pouted, walking towards Susan's table and poking the parchments on it.
"There's nothing wrong with ducks," Ginny's voice sounded from beneath Susan's bed, "just normal people don't go around with them sitting atop their heads."
"Neither do I," Daphne remarked, patting her head as if to make sure of it.
"No, but you're dreaming of it."
"Found anything?" Daphne asked, rearranging the parchments into three piles – boring, really boring, might not be boring.
"Not even dust balls of interesting shape," Ginny said, emerging from under the bed and perusing the bedside table, "Let's see what's Susan's idea of some light reading."
"And what is it?" Daphne asked absently, scanning a parchment that would most certainly need a pile of its own.
"A book on Wizarding Laws, a book on Transfiguration, and a book – oh, good for her – of romance novels."
"I sometimes have a crystal ball on my bedside table," Daphne said.
"You use it as a paperweight," Ginny reminded her, "whereas I have "Wmffre and Slipwook" on my bedside table, and that encompasses all three. That's already two-zero in my favour."
"What has a pseudo-historical giant-goblin love story to do with wizarding laws?"
"Are you stupid? It has everything to do with law. It's the law that keeps them apart, for crying out loud!" Ginny cried out loud.
"I still don't see how that counts and my crystal ball doesn't. I do use it for more than just paperweight, you know. I sometimes gaze at the candle behind it – the light shines so prettily through it."
"I doubt Susan uses the Transfiguration book for the same purpose," Ginny remarked.
"You don't know that."
"All right then," Ginny relented, "you get one point for the crystal ball. But I get three for history, romance, and laws."
"I get two," Daphne argued, "I happen to have a romance novel there, as well. One of Narcissa's legendary ones. I should get two points for it."
"Two points for some trashy novel while I have the world's greatest love story!"
"It's not the world's greatest love story just because it includes a giant. No one has ever heard of it. You hadn't, before you found the book."
"May as it be, everyone is going to know a lot about it soon enough."
"Wmffre and Slipwook" was a not very historical play featuring an unlikely – and possibly impossible – love story between a giant and a goblin, which Ginny had chosen to perform at Christmas with her students. Most of her lessons were therefore passed by learning and practising the play instead of doing the real stuff as some might have said, but Ginny insisted that this was in any case a better way of learning than whatever had taken place in Binns' class; it was both educating and fun. To include the element of education – since most of the original play had been just ridiculous – Ginny had added a few worthy facts and dates to the characters' monologues; now some students had to memorize them while other simply heard it repeatedly, which was also a good way to learn things. Daphne was, hopefully, the only Professor other than Ginny who knew about this, as it was all intended to be the Big Surprise, and some people were sure to be very surprised indeed. Ginny was particularly hoping that Hermione would be shocked speechless.
"Okay, but it's still two points to me and two points to you," Daphne spoke.
"Three points to me," Ginny corrected, "which makes the score four-two in my favour."
"I'm still going to argue about the wallpaper. If I don't get a point for my polka dots, you shouldn't get one for your Quidditch posters. There are no Quidditch posters here, are there?"
"You do that," Ginny generously allowed, "while I'll search the closet for skeletons."
Daphne shook her head in annoyance-amusement and returned to her own current object of interest. For a while the only sound in the room was that of someone searching through the wardrobe, then, as it was expected, Ginny's voice rang out again, loud and excited, "Hey, what's this? Hidden away back here, oh, you go girl! Wait, wait, what are these? Book, no, albums, no, journals! No wait..."
A few moments later she reappeared, holding a bright pink and sparkling robe on one arm and several large volumes of something under the other.
"A sparkling pink robe," Daphne acknowledged, "and I thought the woman had no taste. Well, that's a point for me, you have to admit."
"No, I don't," Ginny said, tossing the garment onto the bed and sitting down next to it to examine the volumes. "I have a pink robe, too, for your information."
"Yes, but it's not bright pink and it's not sparkling."
"It sparkles too," Ginny protested, a bit absently as she was also reading her other find at the moment, "it's not perhaps this garish—"
"Mine is just this garish," Daphne spoke victoriously. "That's four-three, and as you can see, I'm gaining on you."
"I can see something much better," Ginny announced, "if I choose to believe my eyes."
"What are those?"
"Susan's journals. Although the more accurate name would be the collection of Susan's rants about Terry. Really, if I'd known she was so crazy about him, I would have tried to hook him up with Susan, not Hermione."
"I don't think she's still taken to him that much. So it's normal to have volumes of journals filled with rants about your ex-boyfriend hidden in your wardrobe? I don't think either of us will get a point for that."
"You like to make all kinds of silly lists," Ginny said, "are you sure you haven't made one about your cow?"
"I don't make all kinds of silly lists," Daphne replied calmly, "I have one list, and it's not silly. And no, I don't keep written records of rants about my previous boyfriends."
"Neither do I," Ginny spoke with slight regret, "I suppose we have to start doing it now, if we want to be normal."
"I suppose, but only for one day."
"Well, it's not like I don't have enough material," Ginny rolled her eyes, giving Daphne the first attentive look in a while, "Daph! You're still at the table. You haven't checked the drawers yet, either, have you? Merlin, how slow can you be."
"Quite slow, since he's dead. Oh, you will not be giving me this look when I show what treasure I have found. Tell me, has Harry ever written you a love letter?"
"Love letter?"
"Oh yes," Daphne grinned and then quoted, "Dearest Susan, I've been thinking about you for weeks, and I cannot put you out of my mind. You are the dandelion in my garden, the venomous tentacula in my greenhouse, the basilisk among my spiders, the obsession of my mind. Wow, that's quite—"
"Corny," Ginny finished, "and weird. Sounds a bit like Neville, but it can't be him."
"It's sweet, too, in its own way. And no, it's not Neville. It's been signed V. K."
"V. K.?" she repeated, frowning, and then suddenly exclaimed with understanding, "Viktor Krum!"
"The Quidditch player?"
"Yes!" Ginny shouted, "a secret romance with an international Quidditch player. Damn, Daph, if you've been secretly meeting with Dean then here's your point. But I still can't believe it out of Susan. Susan and Krum! Wow! I'm starting to like Susan more and more the better I get to know her."
"Why is having a secret romantic relationship with some world-famous Quidditch star such a good thing?" Daphne wondered.
"Well, I didn't think Susan had any interest in Quidditch. Bloody hell, I can't wait to tell Hermione about it, she knew Krum better than anyone else of us. Except for Susan, as it appears."
"You mean you'll tell Hermione you broke into Susan's room, looked through her private correspondence and found the letter?"
"Maybe in not those words," Ginny shrugged, stretching out her hand for the letter, "let's see what else he writes."
While she was reading the letter, Daphne tried on Susan's sparkling pink robe and skipped round the room, peeking into and under things she hadn't yet peeked into or under.
"Who would have guessed Krum was such a sappy romantic," Ginny sighed, shaking her head as if she'd lost faith in mankind, or at least in professional Quidditch players.
"It's sort of cute," Daphne argued from somewhere near the ceiling.
"If you're into such a thing," Ginny allowed. "And for one day, so shall we."
"Yes, but we don't know if Susan even likes that stuff," Daphne said, searching Susan's chandelier for Merlin didn't know what, or possibly just listening to it tinkle prettily. "Maybe she doesn't return Krum's feelings."
"Oh, poor Viktor and his unrequited love. First Hermione, now Susan. It doesn't guarantee happiness, being rich and famous."
"I'd certainly pick a Quidditch star over a Porridge Face any day, if I were Susan," Daphne remarked.
"But you're not," Ginny said, returning the letter to Susan's desk, and glancing up at her friend, "why are you hanging upside down from the ceiling? Wait, never mind that. Just make sure you don't tear the robe, Susan wouldn't like it."
"This is nice," Daphne commented, dangling from the chandelier. "We should break into people's rooms more often."
"And wear their robes and swing from their chandeliers? Good idea."
"I just hope Susan loves this V. K. back, whoever he is."
"If she doesn't," Ginny grinned, "we can always prod her in the right direction."
---
Ron's day so far had also gone rather well, since he'd discovered that being the Headmaster meant he could sleep till noon if he wanted. Today he'd done exactly that, then gone down to the kitchens for breakfast and lunch combined. After that he'd roamed the castle for a while, grinning at both impolite portraits and stray students. He hadn't figured out a way to flap his ears yet, but he was going to visit Luna and ask for advice. She was the kind of person to know this kind of thing.
And later on, he was planning to go see Millicent and do whatever she wanted. That thought alone made his grin wider and his ears pinker. Things with Millicent were going well. He had asked her on a date, and she had almost accepted. That was a good omen. And she had even flirted with him in the library last night, oh sweet blush-worthy memory.
Mind thus pleasantly occupied, Ron didn't notice Neville standing in the hallway and having a discussion with one of the portraits and walked straight past him, stopping only when he heard his name called.
"Oh hi, Neville," he greeted him cheerfully.
"Hey, Ron," Neville smiled back, and after excusing himself and saying proper goodbyes to the man in the painting, he went to accompany his friend on his strolling down the hallway.
"They never speak to me," Ron remarked, motioning towards the portrait, "they just sneer or glare or insult me. Except for one old lady, who just points at me and giggles."
"She does it to everyone," Neville said, "as to the others, they can be a little... all right, a lot rude at the beginning, but that's all for show. They just want someone to listen to them."
"What were you talking about to that one?" Ron asked, curious.
"Oh," Neville snorted, "we discussed the pros and cons of turning your enemies into house-elves. His major concern was that he couldn't house that many elves."
"Heh. Your lessons over for today?"
"Yes, I just gave my last," Neville said, "let the children go half an hour earlier. They spent all lesson wresting with Snargaluffs, they seemed to deserve it."
"Wow, you really think of your students," Ron breathed in awe, as if he had never expected this sort of kindness from a teacher, "I wish you had been my Professor..."
"Don't," Neville said, laughing, and Ron grinned in return, "so, speaking of yourself, how are you doing as the Headmaster?"
"Wonderfully," Ron replied at once, beaming, "it's such a great job to have."
"I really do admire you. I don't think I could be in your place. All that responsibility and the pressure, having to look out for the safety and well-being of each and every student of yours, being in the centre of the public's attention, and if anything should go wrong all the blame will fall on you..." Neville stopped talking, realizing that his friend had stopped walking and was now staring at him with wide eyes.
"Ron?"
"Nothing will go wrong, right?" Ron asked, pleadingly. "I mean, I know Dumbledore had problems but that was because of Voldemort, wasn't it? Now that he's gone, everything will be all right, right?"
"Of course, Ron," Neville quickly assured him, "and even if something should happen, which it probably doesn't, we're all here to support you. We're all together in this."
"Oh. Yeah. All right," Ron said, noticeably calmer, and in a few moments' time he was even able to ask quite cheerfully, "I thought I'd go visit Luna. You want to come with me?"
"Actually, I was going to see Millicent," Neville replied, trying to sound casual, "to see if she needs any more herbs from me."
Ron did notice his friend's slight discomfort and misinterpreted it completely,
"Hey, you're not afraid of her, are you?" he asked, and at Neville's shocked expression, went on with what he thought would be of help, "I mean, she can be quite intimidating now and then, but she's not at all that awful and scary as you may think. She's actually very nice, once you get to know her, she's funny and smart and pretty."
"You think so?" Neville inquired with a new-born suspicion, the reason for which Ron yet again misunderstood.
"Yeah," he spoke rather dreamily, and then, suddenly unable to keep it to himself, decided to make a confession.
"Don't tell it to others yet," he whispered, looking round in the empty corridor to make sure it was indeed empty, "but I asked her out on a date, and she agreed."
Neville managed to smile, but through severe difficulties. He had been aware of there being something between his Millie and Zabini, but to this moment he had been completely ignorant of Ron's feelings and his relationship with her, which, as was now revealed to him, had progressed a lot further than his own with Millie. What had they done but met in dark passageways for a few times, and given in to their hot, burning, raging desire; but Ron was actually going on a date with her, to some public place, where they would be seen. What was he, Neville, to that? Nothing but a dirty little secret.
He had thought she would be the one! But now he'd have to step out of the way, and play the part of a kind and supportive friend, because that's what he was, wasn't he? Because clearly she wanted—
Neville had to stop that thread of thought if he didn't want to give himself away, since Ron was now looking oddly at him, and he'd probably done something to cause that. With great effort he was able to collect himself, and say,
"That's great, Ron."
"Yeah, isn't it?" Ron said, sighing dreamily. They were both walking towards Millicent's classroom, Neville realized, and he was enough of a masochist not to excuse himself and flee to his room, but to go and face Milla while his pain was still the freshest, the strongest.
The rest of the way was passed in silence, and Neville was very glad for it. He had half feared Ron might continue talking about Milla and their wonderful relationship, in which case his self-control might have just snapped, but thankfully Ron said nothing.
They were getting near Millicent's classroom when a strange noise reached their ears – a mix of screeching and giggling, with the occasional thumps of something heavy falling down. Ron and Neville exchanged one long look, and then quickened their pace. They were running when they reached her door, and flung it upon without further ado – it was obvious all the commotion was coming from her classroom, and very soon they realized why.
The scene that greeted them was very similar to the one they had both experienced in their second Year, when Professor Lockhart had let loose a boxful of Cornish pixies, only these little creatures, flying around and causing as much mayhem as possible, came in other colours than the electric blue, and as they were upsetting potion-filled cauldrons and flinging books and parchments at the students hiding under the tables, they even changed their colours, as if they were chameleons.
For several moments, this whirlwind of colours was all they could see, then they caught sight of the lonely black figure, standing in the centre of all the chaos and fighting with it, both hand and wand.
"Leave me alone, you pest!" it screeched, grabbed one pixie out of the air and tossed it hard against the blackboard.
"Die, dammit, die!" it shouted, swishing the wand, "Avada—"
Neville, the first to react, let out a roar loader than all the noise in the room,
"MILLIE, NO!"
Millicent didn't spare him a look, but at least she left the curse unfinished and stupefied the pixie instead. Neville quickly drew his own wand and started to help her, after another moment so did Ron. Even though there were three of them now, it still took a while till they managed to get rid of all the pixies, for their chameleon abilities made them hard to spot, and if they could have refrained from giggling and tossing things, they might have remained unseen.
As it was, when they had shot down the last of the pixies, the bell rang, signifying the end of the lesson, and students climbed out from under the tables to hurry away. Despite their urge to leave, many had lost their books and parchments and had to spend time looking for them in the midst of puddles of potion and motionless bodies of stupefied pixies, thus giving their teacher the time to take a breath and regain full awareness of everything. No one had managed to leave yet, when Millicent's icy command pierced the air,
"Nobody move!"
She had restored her composure and with that also her glare. Levelling it first on her students, she then, under their full attention, turned it to the side, where the door to her office stood ajar. Then she turned back and glared at them again, only now searching with her eyes the guilty one. She found her soon enough.
"All right, class, you can go," she said, a chorus of sighs of relief following her words, "all except for Mia von Trap."
She smirked as she looked at the girl left behind. Mia had been brilliant, but not brilliant enough to fool her. True, the girl had not let one hint of guilty conscience slip; she had stared back with a serene expression, and that had been the mistake. Everyone but her had been shocked and scared.
Searching through the girl's bag she found the stolen Polyjuice potion; Mia was sent away with 200 points deducted from Malfoy and two months of detention given, yet she was still hiding a triumphant smile – the Professor hadn't taken away all the potion she had this cleverly attained. And Monika, too, will be awed by this. They had been planning a distraction for tomorrow's lesson but thanks to Professor Crabbe there was no need to wait that long.
Once the girl had left, Millicent spelled her classroom back to order. She had half a mind to leave it like this and have Mia clean up her own mess, but she was feeling a bit protective about the room, and unwilling to leave it in the hands of a student, especially such a student. All the chameleon pixies she collected into a pile on her desk, which then crumbled to nothingness under her glare.
"Relax," she told her stunned audience. "These were simply the clones. Mia von Trap was able to steal one pixie from Vinny and clone it. The enchantment doesn't last very long, but with these creatures, that's long enough. Oh, and the real pixie is sitting on your ear, Ron."
Ron started, his hand automatically flying to his ear where it found some resistance from the pixie hiding behind his hair, and with a yelp he withdrew it, the creature hanging to his finger that it had bitten.
"They're curious little creatures," Millicent snorted, as if she hadn't shouted them to die just a little while ago, "annoying as hell, too."
"Millie," Neville started, his tone serious, and she knew what he was going to say.
"Yes, I know it was not a good idea to cast a Killing Curse in a room full of students," she said it herself, "but it's not like it would have worked. I was annoyed, but not that angry.
"It won't happen again," she added as she saw his lips move, and then quickly changed the subject, "what are you doing here?"
"Neville wanted to ask if you need any herbs," Ron explained, "I just came along for—"
"I heard about you two," Neville cut him through, his voice sharp, "Congratulations!"
Millicent stared at him and then turned to Ron, who was still trying to remove the pixie from his finger,
"What did you tell him, Ronnie?"
"Nothing!" Ron exclaimed guiltily, "he just seemed scared of you, coming here all alone, and I said a few things to make him realize you are not that scary at all."
"Scared?" Millicent repeated, incredulous, and then burst into laughing. "You are sometimes so oblivious, Ronnie, it's even cute. Neville's no more afraid of me than you are; in fact, he thinks of me much in the same way you do."
"No, he doesn't," Ron protested, "he doesn't... think of... you as I do."
"Perhaps not," Millicent conceded, "but if he were to tell me a way to capture my Vampire Kids, I'd go on that date with him. As it is, however, it was Blaise who came up with the age line idea, so I'm off to see him now. Good bye, my lover boys. Try not to kill each other."
Instead of leaving her classroom, she merely pushed them out of it, and shut the door to their faces. They stood there in silence for several long moments, both having to come to terms with what they had heard. And then, finally, Ron pointed the pixie at Neville, and exclaimed accusingly, "You like her too!" which summed up pretty much everything.
End Note (Please read): So once again I'm asking for your advice. This story has already turned out much longer than I expected, so I thought I would end it at Christmas. But then BlueSphinx told me I should do the whole year, and she has this amazing ability to make me doubt everything. So now I'm not sure what I should do. If I were to do the whole year, the story would be oh so much longer, and I'm not sure if I want it to be that long. But on the other hand, it might be nice to do the whole year, and I do have some ideas of what to write about. So, here I am, asking for your advice and opinion: would you like me to do the whole year or end the story at Christmas? Mind you, it won't be the end of Pigwarts. I'm planning to write more about Pigwarts, its students and teachers, but not long stories like this one, but a collection of one-shots.